Slave to My Indian Maid Ch. 12

"It's been a while that I think you haven't been given a thorough punishment, baba. Yes, from time to time we spank you. We use the cane on you. Last night, for example, I punished you. And this morning, you got a proper whooping from Rubina. But these punishments are a result of your infractions. My question is, why should you even give us a reason to discipline you?"

"I am sorry, bua..."

"Sssh!" Rashida now walked up and stood directly in front of me. "You have been my slave for the last five years! You should be thoroughly trained by now! And yet ..."

Her hand went up and grabbed an ear. I felt the distinct tug as she pinched the lobe of my ear, and then twisted it.

"From now on," Rashida told me, "I will expect higher standards from you. I will tell you something just once. If I have to tell you more than once, you're getting a slap! Or even a spanking if I feel like it. Do you understand?"

It was hard for me to nod as she firmly held me by the ear, but I made an attempt anyways.

"Yes, bua. Of course, bua."

"Tonight, I am going to make sure you understand that. I will spank you very hard, tonight, baba. And you know what? You deserve every single smack, baba, and when my hand is too sore to go on, you're going to fetch me my cane and bend over a chair. And even then I won't be finished. After that you are going to give me that favourite hand brush of mine. And then you will be over my knee as I whack you with my chappal! Both of them! When I am done punishing you ... ALL NIGHT ... you are going to have a very, very sore buttock, that will be very, very, very red!"

Rashida let go of my ear and raised her hand.

SLAP!

SLAP!

"Now off you go, baba. And make preparations for our date."

"Yes, bua."

I left her room. Chastised, but also giddy.

I have a date! I HAVE A DATE!

I.

Have.

A.

Date.

With my love.

My bua!

My sexy bua!

My big bua with the big buttocks and the big breasts!

My lovely, dominant bua!

MY LOVE!

* * *

It was 6ish in the evening, and I was changing. I was actually admiring myself in the mirror. Hard work at the gym was paying off and I loved what I was seeing.

Suddenly my day dreaming was broken by a sharp knock on the door of my bedroom. The knock was quickly followed by the door handle turning, and then the door was pushed open. It was Rashida.

"Baba, I need-" She was going to say something, but stopped when she saw me, fully nude, standing in front of the mirror. Her eyes narrowed.

"Baba." She asked. "Why are you naked?"

"B-b-bua." I stammered. "I was just getting ready, and about to change. We ... we ... we have a date, remember? In an hour? China Cottage -- I got the reservations, as I had told you."

"Hmm." Rashida beckoned at me with a curled finger. "Come with me. I need you to help get me ready. I need to go to the toilet."

"Er ... toilet?"

"Of course." Rashida harrumphed. "What are you ... short of hearing?"

She was not in a good mood. Yet.

"Er ... yes, of course, bua." I answered. "Should I put on my underwear, at least?"

Rashida walked up to me, calmly raised her hand and caught hold of my left ear in a vice grip. Her fingers pressed hard against my ear lobe.

"Baba. Baba." My buxom maid servant shook her head, as she twisted my ear. "How many times must you be this stupid?"

"Oww ... owww ... I am sorry, bua." I faltered and apologized, as Rashida pulled at my ear hard. "I wasn't thinking."

Rashida let go of my ear, and then raised her hand again. Knowing what was to happen, I presented my right cheek to her.

SLAP!

Rashida raised her hand and calmly slapped me, and with the back of her hand slapped me again on the other cheek.

SLAP!

SLAP!

SLAP!

SLAP!

SLAP!

Rashida's six slaps were tight, fast and left my cheeks stinging.

"Ok, come with me." My maid servant commanded, turning around and starting to head out of the room.

My eyes followed the contour of her big back as she turned around. Her sari's pallu was to one side, and I could see a little bit of her back from the low cut angle of her blouse, followed by her big naked bare waist, before the petticoat and sari covered her big, bubbling buttocks. My cock stirred to life as I watched the sari dive in the cleft between her butt cheeks. As she started to walk, one ass cheek went up, while the other went down. With a sigh, a sigh of unremitted love, I started to follow her.

I walked behind her, following her, butt naked, all the way from my room through the house and on to the servants' quarters. I had done this "walk of shame" naked many times before, sometimes with Rashida dragging me by the ear, or sometimes Rubina even holding my turgid penis and leading me. Often it was late at night when everyone else was in bed. Now, since it was early evening, but thank goodness no one else other than her and Rubina was in the house.

Rubina was in the hallway, and she saw me, walking abjectly behind Rashida, naked, following my maid servant like a slave, and she gave a little smirk. As I walked past Rubina, my diminutive maid servant grabbed my buttocks and gave my buns a jiggle and a squeeze, before letting go.

"Have fun being your maid's toilet, baba." Rubina told me, before letting me go.

I followed Rashida into the maids' washroom. It had been recently renovated by my dad, so boasted tiles and a modern finish. Once we were both inside, Rashida turned, closed and locked the door.

"Sit on the commode, baba." She ordered. "And pee."

"Er ... yes, bua."

I sat down on the commode as my maid servant continued to look on. Parting my legs slightly, I pushed my penis down, and started to pee. Within moments, the golden stream hit the commode. Rashida watched, a small smile at the corner of her lips, as I urinated unabashed in front of her. I had a full bladder, and the urine continued to stream down, making a noise, all the while emphasizing my indignity and lowly status.

When I was done, I cleaned myself with water from the lota and some tissue paper, flushed, and then stood and cleaned myself at the basin. As I stood there, I felt Rashida's hands on my bum.

"Bend over." Rashida instructed me.

"Yes, bua." I complied.

"I can see Rubina has spanked you nicely in the morning." Rashida exclaimed, examining my bottom. "I can see the marks on your pasa. Tell me what she did to you."

It was extremely embarrassing to remain bent over in this humiliating position and recount how my younger maid servant had punished me, but I had to do it, and did it, even as Rashida constantly patted and caressed my buttocks during that time. By the time I had finished recounting, I was ashamed to realize I was sporting a small boner.

"Good." Rashida's hands moved forward and she played with my hardness for a bit. When I was rock hard, she let go of me and pointed to the standing shower area.

"Go and kneel down on the tiles, baba." She ordered. "You are going to be my toilet."

"Yes, bua." I knew what she had in mind. I went to the standing shower area, and knelt down on the cold, mosaic floor. I was facing the door and could see Rashida.

She started to strip. I just watched, my eyes rapt in attention.

No matter how many times I had seen my goddess Rashida in the nude, it was still a sight to savor and a moment to treasure. She first took off the sari, rolled it into a pile and then hung it from a hook on the door. The sight of her, dressed in only a blouse and petticoat, with her full big waist and her deep navel on her jiggling belly on display, was mesmerizing.

Rashida then started to unbutton her blouse, and then took it off. Her gigantic boobs, now barely held in place by a small bra, struggled to be free. She reached onto her back, unclipped the bra, and then flung it on another hook on the door. Her gargantuan melons, now free of any constraints, burst out free.

Oh, how pendulously her breasts swung! Firm, bouncy, big, erect, seemingly full of milk -- such vibrant breasts! Rashida saw my looking and gave another smile, and then reached down to untie the knot that held her petticoat together. Pretty soon, she was fully nude, in all her glory. Like many lower class working Indian women, she didn't shave often, so I could see a bush covering both her pubic area and her arm pits. Lovely, fluffy bush. Oh naked Rashida! How often do I dream of thee!

My lovely naked Rashdia got into the standing shower area with me. I was kneeling on the floor, looking up at her. She placed a leg on either side of me. I was now directly looking up at her lower genitalia.

"You ready to be my toilet, baba?" Rashida asked.

"Yes, bua."

Rashida lowered one hand. With two fingers separating the lips of her pussy, my maid servant began to pee. Wordlessly, obediently, slavishly, I opened my mouth as her yellow stream splashed on my face, taking in big gulps of her urine. My body was wet with her yellow fluid as she directed the stream over my head, wetting my hair, and then on my face, into my mouth. I continued to take in each glob of her pee as her gush gently slowed down to a trickle, and then a splatter of a few drops.

When she was done, Rashida grabbed my hair and pulled my mouth to her cunt. There was a strong sharp smell on her legs and the bathroom floor where I was kneeling, now drenched with her piss. I leaned forward and began to clean her dirty pussy with my tongue.

"Mmmmm." Rashida mumbled, as my tongue found its mark. Again and again I lashed out at her clit, quickly bringing her to an orgasm as I licked her clit, just like I had done many times before.

* * *

The waiter took us to a private booth. In my call to the restaurant, I had asked them to reserve a particular booth. Usually these were asked by guys when wooing their romantic interests, so perhaps the waiter was a little bit surprised, but I was a regular here and they probably thought I was here with my aunt. Once we were seated, he gave us the menus.

"We have an appetizer on special today, Sir." He told me. "Chicken corn soup. It's really good."

"Bring two, please." I said. I knew Rashida liked that soup -- whenever we got Chinese food to go, my mother would get that soup for her. "And leave the menus here, we will decide and then call you."

"Yes, Sir." He left. I turned to look at Rashida.

She was looking beautiful. She had taken off her coat and placed the shawl on the empty space on the booth next to her. I saw that she was dressed in a nice banarasi sari, probably one gifted to her by my mom last Eid. Her long hair was carefully done, combed straight, and fell down on either side of her face, touching her puffy cheeks. Her blouse was a little low cut, giving a hint of the lovely and large secrets it hid, while being classy enough, and she was wearing the necklace I had given her. Rashida didn't like makeup much -- and as a lower class woman she didn't have access to much, but I noticed she had used some minimal powder and a nice shade of lipstick, along with some kajal for her eyes. She looked ... what was the word ... radiant. She looked simply radiant.

"What are you looking at?" My maid servant -- the love of my life -- had caught me looking, and asked me with a smile.

"You, bua." I could not help but gush. "You look so pretty, bua. So beautiful. I am sure if you compare yourself to any of the ladies in this restaurant, you would be the most beautiful one."

Rashida smiled again.

"You are such an idiot, baba." She said. "You are just infatuated with me, and that's your little nunu talking. I am an old, fat, lower class servant lady."

"No, bua, you are not. Yes, I do love you, but really you are so pretty. So beautiful. So ... sexy."

Rashida grinned.

"Sexy? Tell me, baba, what's on your mind. What would you do to me if you could? When you masturbate to thoughts of me, what do you think?"

"Oh, bua." I blushed and looked down. "I can't tell you that!"

"Oh, do tell." Rashida encouraged me. "I promise not to punish you. After all, I am asking you. Let's say we are alone in my room, and I tell you that you can do whatever you want to do with me. To me. What would you do?"

Oh, what the hell, I thought. Let me go for it.

"Bua." I began. "I would begin by hugging you so tightly. My arms wrapped around your beautiful waist, my fingers resting on your bare skin. I would kiss your beautiful cheeks, bua. You lovely, chubby, fleshy cheeks. Then I would ..."

I stopped. I didn't want to continue, but I saw Rashida had a twinkle in her eye.

"Go on." She said.

"I would then take you to bed, bua." I told her. "I would love to do to you what any man wants to do with his beloved."

"Hmm." Rashida remarked. She couldn't say anything more as the waiter returned with a tray containing our bowls of soup, cutlery and glasses of water.

"Tarek. Order for both of us. You should know what I like." Rashida commanded me. "Let me see if you can."

"Yes, bua." I replied. Even in front of others she was dominating me!

I grabbed the menu and quickly ordered three dishes that we both liked. The waiter nodded and left. Rashida used a spoon and started on her soup.

"So, you call me beloved, eh." She remarked.

"Bua ..." I began to blush again.

"No, no. It's ok." Rashida looked at me. "So, you love me?"

"Of course, bua." I answered. "You know that. I have loved you for a long time. Ever since you first ... started ... to spank me. Bua, I love you with all of my heart."

"But, baba." Rashida decided to put me in my place as she enjoyed her soup. "You know how I treat you. You are my slave. My kutti -- my bitch. I beat you when I want to, slap you, piss on you, cane you, have my fun with you, and send you off when I am done with you. Why do you think of me as your beloved, baba?"

I nearly chocked on my soup, but I knew I had to reply. Part of the great thing about being a submissive was that I could just open up to Rashida without fear. Not only was I naked to her when submitting, but naked to her spiritually and emotionally as well. In true sense of the word, I had no secrets from her.

"Bua, I know that you can do whatever you want to me. I LOVE you. I submit to you unconditionally, of my own accord. I am your doormat. I am your whipping boy. I know my love for you is one way, but it is what it is. I love you, bua."

"And," Rashida continued to enjoy her soup as she prodded me with her words. "What exactly would you do to me in bed, baba?"

Once again I decided to go for it.

"Bua, I love your big breasts. I would kiss them. Suck on them. Play with them. Jiggle them. Then I would strip you naked and kiss you everywhere, bua. Your big boobs. Your thick lips. Your giant ass. Oh, I would love to kiss your huge ass and your choot -- your cunt. And then ... you know ... I would ... make love to you."

There was a little pause as we both tucked into our soup. Then Rashida looked at me, a twinkle in her eye.

"Is that why you love me, just to take me to bed? And once you are done, you will forget about me? That's lust, Tarek, not love. Is that all I am to you -- a piece of meat to be fucked?"

"No, bua, no!" I vehemently denied it. "My love for you has nothing to do with sex. I LOVE you. Spiritually. And yes, I am attracted to your body. Your lovely, beautiful, big body. I do want to make love to you, bua. I cannot deny that. Every day I dream of fucking you. Whenever I masturbate, bua, it is to thoughts of you. But even more than that, I love you for what you are. And what you mean to me. And ... um ... what you do to me."

We had to stop talking as the waiter came to clear our soup bowls and then bring the main entrees. The good thing about a Chinese restaurant was the fast service. As we began to take the food onto our plates and tuck in, Rashida spoke.

"Baba, I never told you about how I came to be in the service of your family, did I?"

"Er ... I don't think so, bua."

"I was nineteen ... or twenty ... don't remember exactly ... when I started to work for your mother." Rashida recalled. "You were merely a toddler of three years of age then. Or two ... it's slipping my mind."

I remained silent and quietly ate some chilli chicken. Rashida meanwhile was tucking into some of the Hakka chow mein with relish. Then she continued her story.

"My father was an abusive man. He was a day labourer back in the village, working on the farms and other projects in and around our village. After the day's work, he would go with his Hindu friends and drink bhaang, even though it is haram, and get drunk. And then come home and take it out on my poor mother."

"Take. It. Out." I repeated. "What do you mean, Rashida? Would he ... um ... beat your mom?"

"My poor mom!" Rashida reminisced for a bit. "Her name is Dania, and she's one of the sweetest Bengali women you could imagine. Smooth, milky fair skin, almost like a Kashmiri girl, long hair, and sharp, prominent features. Even now, she's pushing seventy, but she looks no older than fifty. Sometimes, due to my ... er ... being fat, I look as old as her -- people often mistake us for sisters when we are together. Of course she has trouble walking a lot now, so there is that, but boy at one time she was a spunky young woman! And yet how cruelly my father treated her!"

"Er ... what exactly did he do, bua?"

Rashida shook her head sadly.

"My father is a big reason I grew up hating ALL men! He would slap my mother on the slightest pretext. He would hit her and beat her mercilessly at times. He was drunk all the time, Tarek. And he was a bastard. Even now my mother's cries sometimes haunt me."

There was a pause as I took in this story, and we continued to eat. Then Rashida picked up her story again.

"When I was eighteen, mother became pregnant again. By this time, my father was older, and couldn't work as much due to his deteriorating health, and he started to gamble as well. I had to drop out of school and help the family, so I began to work as a maid in the rich people's houses in the village. My father was still as cruel as ever, and this is the time I began to actively hate all men, simply because I had him as a role model. And then my employer in one of the houses tried to rape me."

"Oh, no!"

"Oh yes, Tarek. That is our lot as the poor service folk." Rashida said. "The malkin of the house wasn't there -- she had gone out to the market, and the husband tried to press me to go to bed with him. That was his big mistake. At that time, I had been angry at my father because he wasn't paying much attention to his pregnant wife. I was angry at having to drop out of school and work as a maid. I was angry that I had no friends. I was angry about my whole lot in life, and then there was this man trying to grope me. So, I snapped. I took out all my anger on him. I raised my hand and gave him a tight slap. I just let it all out in a violent smack on his cheeks."

There was a pause as we both refilled our plates and ate for some time. Then Rashida picked up her story again.